


bro im no good with titles lmao im sorry

by roidadidou



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 09:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12627984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roidadidou/pseuds/roidadidou
Summary: Sally Stage Play reminisces on the relationship she had with King Dice before she met Jack.





	bro im no good with titles lmao im sorry

The clatter of metal forks and knives against ceramic plates accompanied lively conversation, so much so that the slowly building raindrops on the roof were hardly noticed. While one toddler was old enough to hold her own silverware, albeit incorrectly, the youngest infant at the table had to be assisted by his father. The oldest two children, who weren’t human at all, were simply guests visiting.  


“Thank you for dinner, Missus Stage Play!” Cuphead interjected between bites of steak.  


“Oh, it’s no problem. You two boys are such a delight to have.”  


“We oughta keep you around more when the kids get older, you’ll be good influences on them!” Jack added while raising a spoonful of baby food to his son’s mouth.  


Almost as if out of nowhere, a crack of thunder filled the house with noise, and a flash of lightning lit up the windows. Mugman almost jumped out of his seat, and Cuphead simply laughed.  


“Aw, what are you, scared?”  


Jack glanced out the window to see the pouring rain.  


“It’s probably best if you stay the night. I know Elder Kettle wouldn’t want you walking home in this weather.”  


“I’ll fetch the sleeping bags from the attic.” Sally added. “I think our couch is big enough for both of you.”  


While Jack cleared the plates and saucers from the table, Sally crept up the stairs, and pulled the attic’s ladder down from the ceiling. Quickly finding the rolled-up sleeping bags, she happened to spot a dusty cardboard box full of photo albums and records. It sported a label simply saying “SALLY - 1920’S”  


Sally was right about the couch. Cuphead and Mugman’s feet were half a foot apart when they laid down on either end. Cuphead had no trouble getting comfortable, but his brother was visibly scared by the continuing storm.  


“Mugman, it’s alright,” the lady of the house said while tucking him in. “If it makes you feel better, every second it takes the thunder to come after the lightning is a hundred miles from here.” The boys being well-acquainted with her well enough to receive kisses on the forehead, they were left to sleep in the living room while a small fire put a soft red light in the corner of their eyes.  
___  


Despite hours of trying, Mugman just couldn’t sleep. Cuphead’s snoring, which he adamantly denied he did, didn’t help. Perhaps a drink of water would help? Pulling himself out of the sleeping bag, he stood up, and used the fire’s light to help him navigate to the kitchen. But as he got closer to the staircase near the kitchen, something caught him off guard. The static of a gramophone slightly muffled a jazz band’s ominous music; and the voice he heard with it only frightened him more.  


_“Folks, I’m going down to Saint James’ Infirmary…”_  


It couldn’t be. Who in this house would own one of King Dice’s albums?  


_“See my baby there; she’s stretched out on a long white table…”_  


His feet made practically no noise on the staircase as he ascended; this house was brand-new. Mugman knew he was headed in the right direction when the music got louder.  


_“She’s so sweet, so cold, so fair…”_  


His gloved hands gripped the ladder’s rungs. When his head peeked into the attic, he saw that the gramophone’s player was Sally, who was flipping through a photo album.  


“Missus Stage Play?” Mugman squeaked nervously. Sally flinched in surprise, shutting the book and looking at the source of the call.  


“Mugman? What are you doing up? Is everything alright?”  


“I couldn’t sleep,” he said as he pulled himself into the attic.  


“What are you doing?”  


A bit of guilt appeared in Sally’s expression as she took the spindle off of the record, stopping the music.  


“Just… Taking a trip down memory lane, I guess.”  


Mugman sat criss-cross next to her, glancing at all the photos that hadn’t been sleeved.  


“Is that you?” He inquired, picking one up. The photo had been dated with “1923” in messy pen.  


“Why is your hair straight?” Indeed, her hair had been relaxed into the short bob that women had found popular in the previous decade.  


“King Dice said curls didn’t sell tickets.”  


“You worked with King Dice?” Mugman’s voice escalated slightly in awe.  


“We were performing partners at the Devil’s casino. … Among other things.”  


Mugman picked up another photo, this time of the two entertainers caught in the middle of a tap-dancing routine.  


“Were you gonna get married?”  


“Only for publicity. And then I met Jack, and I quit. A good thing, too; King Dice didn’t love any part of me that hadn’t been primped and prepared and rehearsed.”  


“Sounds just like him. But he never replaced you; he only sings alone now.”  


“He still performs?”  


“Oh, every night! Me and Cuphead go down there sometimes just to make funny faces at him when he sings.”  


Sally chuckled at their innocence. She packed the photos back into the box and stood.  


“Let’s get you back into bed, Mugman.”  
___  


The color red was prevailing in just about every aspect of the casino; the carpets, the wallpaper, and the hellfire that awaited those who wanted to gamble more money than they had. The sound of endless chatter and game-playing kept the establishment busy. This building never knew a single moment of peace, other than in the long hallways that led to hotel rooms and large dining halls that housed stages for various performing singers, dancers and comedians. One double-doored entrance emitted more noise than the others, having been packed full. And for good reason; a standing sign in front of the door bore King Dice’s name in brightly-written letters.  


Sally hadn’t walked through these halls in years. Despite knowing the Devil’s casino like the back of her hand, she felt like an uncomfortable stranger taking up too much space. But she found the room she had been looking for, and quietly opened the door to enter.  


The dark room featured a single spotlight on the stage. A jazz band of various skeletons, ghouls, and demons played each instrument without error, and taking up most of the space was the casino’s manager himself, who couldn’t go a day without being showered with recognition for his talents.  


_“Let her go, let her go, God bless her, wherever she may be…”_  


Sally, without ever being noticed, took a seat at an empty table and watched. Despite the many sweet nothings he had whispered to her years prior about how he was dependent on having her by his side, losing her was very clearly no skin off his back.  


_“She can search this whole wide world over, but she’ll never find another sweet man like me…”_  


She couldn’t deny his birthright - his voice was certainly a gift that he couldn’t ruin even after years of cigars and assorted alcohols. It was the same voice that he used every day to persuade innocent visitors into binding their souls to practically inescapable contracts; one of those contracts being hers so many years ago. She frequently thanked Cuphead and Mugman for setting her free.  
And yet, here she was again, in the Devil’s trap. She felt ashamed, yet couldn’t deny what drew her here in the first place.  


Applause erupted from the audience as King Dice took a bow and left the stage. The jazz band picked up their instruments and followed. The room’s lights turned on, slowly to prevent a shock to people’s eyes. Just as she considered leaving, a waiter placed a martini in front of her.  


“Oh, I didn’t order-” Sally corrected.  


“It’s complements of King Dice,” the waiter replied, pointing towards the bar. There he stood, his striking purple suit putting him in the limelight even after he left the stage. The bartender gave him a glass of whiskey, and he immediately turned in Sally’s direction, making eye contact. She quickly glanced away as he entitled himself to the chair across from her.  


“Sally Stage Play! Fancy seeing you here.”  


“Oh, you’ve remembered my name. That’s more dignity you give than to most women.”  


His mustache twitched above his breaking smirk. He crossed one leg over the other.  


“You’ve changed.”  


“And you stayed exactly the same.”  


He lit a cigar and took a puff from it.  


“Let’s get down to brass tacks; why are you here? Did you finally get bored of that milquetoast Jack?”  


“No! I love my husband, and my family. Can’t a woman just take a break after her kids are tucked into bed?”  


“I didn’t say that.”  


Silence sat between them. King Dice kept his gaze on the woman in front of him, while Sally simply looked at her drink. It was as if they sat in a bubble where time stopped, and the rest of the casino sped ahead of them.  


“You missed me, didn’t you?” The jazz singer finally said.  


“I guess so. I found all our photos in the attic.”  


“You were really the best partner I’ve ever had; I never hired another one after you. Never even held auditions.”  


“I’d need a lie detector to have a real conversation with you.”  


“I mean it! You don’t believe me? Something drew you back here.”  


“It wasn’t you!”  


“Oh?”  


“It was the stage. I haven’t performed once since I had my children.”  


King Dice held his cigar in his hand while he took a sip from his whiskey, the ice tapping against the glass. Sally began to associate that sound with ill intent and a man who only wanted her to change.  


“You want to change that?”  


“Oh, no, I don’t have the time to learn any routines…”  


“You don’t have to, as long as you remember the ones we did together.”  


“Aren’t those a little… Out of date?”  


“People go crazy for anything vintage. Anything that helps them remember a better time. Especially something like this, something that would help them forget that stock market crash.”  


“Not like it affected you.”  


King Dice’s smile returned.  


“You know me so well.”  
___  


Sally sat in the dressing room as a woman carefully applied makeup to her face. Her hair had once again been straightened and styled. Behind her, other performers got ready for unrelated shows. As soon as the door opened, the smell of a tasteful cologne wafted in as King Dice invited himself in. His plastic heel made a satisfying clack on the hardwood floor, and he rested his gloved hands on Sally’s shoulders, gently squeezing them.  


“No backing out now, Sally,” King Dice assured her.  


“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She lied, having second thoughts.  


“Feels good to be back in show business, don’t it?” He added, bending over to meet her at eye-level as she sat in her chair. She simply smiled.  
___  


A skeleton in formal attire greeted the audience as the room’s lights dimmed to accentuate the single spotlight.  


“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we take you back about ten years ago to revisit one of the best pairs that ever graced this stage; King Dice and his former dance partner, Sally Stage Play!”  
People clapped between their drinks and meals, and the stage was set, the jazz band playing at an unusually calm tempo.  


King Dice and Sally entered from opposite directions of the stage; Sally dressed in purple to match her partner. The music was slow and quiet, and the couple started with a skit rather than with their dance.  


“Do you remember that Valentine I sent you, the one with the arrow piercing the heart?” King Dice stated casually, as if the audience wasn’t there. Sally laughed insincerely.  


“Oh, yeah, I remember that. I think that’s the only Valentine I ever received.”  


“Well, that’s the only Valentine I’ve ever sent.”  


“Those were the happy days, weren’t they? I think I was in love with you then.”  


Any sincerity of the conversation was removed by the jazz band’s music; to the audience, this was only exposition to set up their proceeding dance.  


“I know you were.”  


“Oh, you!”  


“Oh, me.”  


Their conversation continued as it began to incorporate tap-dancing. Eventually, any speech was phased out and fully replaced with the rhythmic sound of their shoes on the wooden floor. The musical accompaniment was always changing; as King Dice and Sally held hands, one arm around Sally’s waist, the music turned into a cinematic piece. When the couple broke apart, and the main focus became their swift feet, the music stopped to allow the audience to admire how precise they had to be.  


Sally was so preoccupied with her dance that she didn’t notice Cuphead and Mugman’s shocked faces to see her on stage. She also didn’t see them quickly leave the room to fetch her husband.  
___  


When the band reached the climax of their song, King Dice and Sally were twirling, clapping, jumping, and kicking their legs up into the air without showing any signs of exhaustion. The end of their routine approached, and they slowed to a halt, both facing the audience. The band ended with a final note, and applause erupted as everyone onstage bowed. Sally looked up to admire her fans, but had any pleasure knocked out of her face when she saw Cuphead and Mugman dragging a disgruntled Jack into the room. To make matters worse, King Dice instinctively tugged on Sally’s arm and pulled her into a kiss simply to rile up the crowd. King Dice left the stage with a grin. Sally left with a red face and a scared frown.  


Jack was waiting for Sally in front of her dressing room. Sally approached, unwilling to face the music.  


“What were you doing up there?” He interrogated.  


“I just… I don’t know.”  


“I thought you promised me never to come back here.”  


“I did, I’m sorry, Jack…”  


“Do you know how dangerous it would be for us if you got stuck in another contract? It’s not just about you, it’s about our-”  


“I know!” She interrupted. Jack’s frown budged.  


“I just wanted to perform one last time before the kids get too old… I used to be a big name, and it’s… It’s hard for me to adjust.”  


Jack’s anger left his face, and he became sympathetic.  


“You missed dancing, didn’t you?”  


Sally nodded, tearing up. Jack used his thumb to wipe the tears from her eyes, and then combed his hand through her straightened hair.  


“Oh, look what he made you do… I like your curls so much better.” He cooed. Sally mustered a smile, then took his hand in hers.  


“Let’s go home. This place gives me the creeps.” He finished.  
___  


Twenty-four hours had passed since Sally’s last dance. She had showered her hair back to normal, and was willing to forget everything that had happened. She even considered burning those photo albums in a final act of letting go, but when she went up into the attic in the middle of the night, she was shocked to find that the gramophone was missing, and so were one of the records. The static of the gramophone muffled the accompanying music that she could hear from downstairs…  


_“Put a red hot jazz band at the top of my head, so we can raise a Hallelujah as we go along…”_  


Sally went downstairs and followed the music into the living room, where she saw her husband’s face shadowed by the fireplace.  


“What are you doing?” She asked innocently.  


He held out his hand.  


“I can’t dance as fast as King Dice can, but I hope it’s enough for you.” He said with a sheepish grin. Sally smiled in appreciation of the man she thought she didn’t deserve.  


“I would be delighted.” She said in a mocking manner of sophistication, taking his hand. He placed his other on her hip, and her other hand went to his shoulder. While Jack didn’t so much as own a pair of dance shoes, any man could slow-dance with his wife. And even if he couldn’t, Sally still would have rested her head on his shoulder, hugging him and vowing she wouldn’t let anyone come between them again.  


_“Folks, now that you have heard my story,_  


_Say, boy, hand me another shot of that booze…  
_

__

_And if anyone should ask, you just tell ‘em  
_

__

_I’ve got those Saint James Infirmary blues…”_

__


End file.
